"So, Ismene, can I an I trava safe tchrough ya lans now?"
Ismene chuckles.
"Thank you all," she says.
"Lord Mallaby, you're free to go."
"Alas, go we must," Mallaby says,
"Would that I could remain in the company of such loveliness." He takes her hand and kisses it.
"My loyal companions, we shall press on. The sun is fading, and not yet down, and by tomorrow we must reach Crovale, to perform the ceremony ere sundown. Lord Goldenhorn, Master Zardi, Master Tyris, Master Jarro, Master... but where is the good dwarf Graval?"
"He is here," Dirk's voice comes through the door,
"but I don't think he'll be going any farther, at least not today."
Dirk comes up to the doorway, supporting Graval's weight on his shoulder. Graval is pale and wincing, and a tracery of fine red lines appears on his face and hands.
"Oh, me head," he groans.
"By the Twelve Gods, what's the matter with him?" Mallaby says.
"Allarian bramble fever," Thais says.
"Dirk's right. He's in no shape to travel. It won't kill him, at least probably not, but he won't be able to travel. He must have picked it up from that frog that tried to swallow him."
"Unfortunately, it hits Dwarves harder than most," Ismene says,
"Dirk was out for a week when he got it. The rest of you might get a bit of a headache, and a rash, but it won't be anything more than that. Once you've had it, you don't get it again."
"Poor fellow," Mallaby says,
"Alas, my friend, this is unfortunate."
"Ye'll ha' to go on wi'out me," Graval says.
"We shall send for you before we make our return journey," Mallaby says, affectionately, but staying a bit back from the Dwarf.
"May the gods look kindly upon you until then."
He turns to Ismene and her supporters.
"Now we must depart. Perhaps one day we shall meet again. Ladies, farewell."
Goldenhorn is mildly curious to find out what the books are about, and leafs through them briefly before the group gets going again.
There are three books. One is a history of the fall of Allaria, and possibly of some value to historians. The second is in Old Allarian, with some readable marginalia. The third is partially in Old Allarian, but the title "Ceremonies of Crovale" seems to indicate it might have some immediate interest.
As the party reaches the main path again, Dirk, who has been acting as guide, waves and steps back into the woods and out of site.
"We shall reach the ridge by nightfall," Mallaby says,
"Shall we rest there or press on? It is midsummer, and shall be a short night, and clear. The moon has already risen, and still is more than halfway full."